Intellectual Conundrum (Sadly)

"One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen. An ecologist must either harden his shell and make believe that the consequences of science are none of his business, or he must be the doctor who sees the marks of death in a community that believes itself well and does not want to be told otherwise."

Aldo Leopold

Two Things That Are Currently Pissing Me Off

1) I have not signed a 4 year, $140 million contract with the Capitol Center for the Arts

2) I am never included in Time magazine's annual list of "The 100 Most Influential People"

Something To Think About

You have no idea how deeply I wish Jesus Christ was a real thing.

I could use a little forgiveness.

Kris Kristofferson

I could not have been more in awe had I been in the presence of Jesus Christ himself.

Magnificent man, magnificent show.

Those who know me to be a severely unemotional man will be amazed to learn that I had tears trickling down my cheeks a few times during his performance. Not a flood, just enough to express my gratitude (involuntarily) at the words this man has written, the beautiful music he has created, the strong emotions his songs elicit.

He is 82. A bit frail. I kept thinking this might be the last time I ever see him, but I had to shake that thought from my mind because it would have distracted from the simple beauty this man delivers to my soul.

He sang in an understated way, very low key. But he is still Kris Kristofferson, a man worthy of any thinking man's respect. He was backed by Merle Haggard's long time backing band so it was obvious that there were real musicians on that stage. And Merle Haggard's son is in the band - he sang and holy shit, he sounded so much like Merle. The crowd went crazy for him.

There were a few songs he sang that the audience joined in on. This blew me away, knocked me right down. This was an older audience, a seemingly conservative New Hampshire audience shedding their inhibitions to sing along with Kris Kristofferson. He loved it - he really reacted to it - clapped his hand over his heart to show his gratitude. I was among the singers.

"Sunday Morning Coming Down". One of my favorite Kristofferson songs. Of course that's like me saying one of my favorite Allman Brothers songs, or favorite Beatles songs. It's ridiculous, I love all of Kris Kristofferson's songs.

A lot of people sang along with that one. I always say Kris has a remarkable way of capturing pure emotion, describing a mood perfectly. That song is a premier example. Go to YouTube right now and listen to it and tell me afterwards you did not feel the loneliness of an alone morning as if you were the last person on earth.

That song slays me. Every single time. Every single fucking time.

Take a minute to check out "Here Comes That Rainbow Again". Kris describes a very small scene in some very small lives in a way that makes you shout "yeah!!!!!!" at the end.

He played two sets. I wish I was still there. But I experienced the night perfectly. I have learned over the years to control my emotions to a certain extent in certain situations. Used to be in a setting like that I would be so emotional for so long I would "miss" half the concert.

I did get a tad choked up when he first walked out and it took a few minutes to rein in my emotions. After that I opened up my soul and let Kris Kristofferson walk right in. Jesus Christ, what a night.

Music is me and I am music. Gotta have it, can't live without it. There are many people I worship, many people who save my life with their music. I tend to be very partial to people who are good with words, who write mind blowing lyrics.

Kris Kristofferson is King. I love the man. I respect him. I appreciate him. I have seen him three times and I cherish each and every one of those concerts. I will never forget last Thursday night.

Never.

Excellent Definition of Hard Work

"It's not easy being drunk all the time. If it were easy, everyone would do it."

Tyrion Lannister,  Game of Thrones

I'm Really Gonna Do It

Gonna watch a chunk of the NFL draft.

Pretty sure I've never done that before. I might have snuck a peek here and there but in general my attitude used to be "who gives a shit".

I had a friend who was gonzo nuts about the draft. Whenever it was held around here he would attend it. It was a big deal for him. I thought he was crazy.

As for me I never let go of football after February 3, 2019. Been watching Good Morning Football pretty regular. Watched chunks of the goddamn Combine. Got 31 episodes of A Football Life saved on the DVR, and I've already watched a bunch of previous episodes. Sick.

I'm a little more knowledgeable about the draft this year, because of my 2019 addiction. I want to see how a lot of the top draft picks shake out.

I always have an ulterior motive though, because I am such an emotional guy.

To me the draft will be the flip side of what I talked about with The Sox getting their rings. The Sox players were celebrating decades of work and sacrifice that got them to the top of the mountain. The dudes who get drafted into the NFL will have their lives changed dramatically and instantaneously; this is the beginning of what they have worked so hard to achieve.

A lot of the top prospects have been on Good Morning Football. So I have a feel for who they are as human beings, an idea of what they are all about. That's a cool thing for me because these guys are usually nothing but names to me.

I will be glued to the set at the very beginning because I want to see that #1 pick. Most likely Kyler Murray, although there is a lot of bullshit floating around about how the Cardinals have not made a decision yet. I want to see the moment - live - when that man's life is instantaneously transformed.

The concept blows me away. Dickhead Goodell calls out your name and just like that your entire family, all your friends, and thousands of fans are delirious. Your life becomes a brand new thing.

I will never have that feeling, you will never have that feeling, so why not experience it vicariously through the life and good fortune of another?

I am looking forward to it.

NEW TOPIC: NFL fans and talking heads are insane. Tonight the NFL will be broadcasting the 2019 NFL Schedule Release. Yup, that's right. This season's schedule gets released tonight and there will be a two hour show to discuss, debate and beat the shit out of it.

I can't handle it. Gotta draw the line there. I don't give a shit who THE PATS are playing this year. I just wanna watch the games. It doesn't matter who they are playing; there will be some good teams, there will be some bad teams. Just like every other year.

Besides, I gotta watch The Bruins tonight. Down 2 to 1 they really gotta beat Toronto tonight.

So I will be otherwise occupied. No way I'm gonna watch a two hour 2019 NFL Schedule Release show. Not even a little bit.

Unless.....................

Might As Well Have A Drink

"Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you're allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It's like killing yourself, and then you're reborn. I guess I've lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now."

Charles Bukowski

No Doubt

"If man could be crossed with a cat, it would improve man, but deteriorate the cat."

Mark Twain

Three Glorious Nights

Once every other decade life serves up a Happiness Orgasm.

Last Thursday night Carol and I went to the Capitol Center to see Million Dollar Quartet. That is a musical that tells the story of the one night - one fucking night in musical history - that Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis were in the same room together. At Sun Records in Memphis Tennessee. On December 4th, 1956.

I was two years old at the time. I don't understand why I wasn't invited.

Sun Records was a small record label owned by a guy - Sam Phillips - with an incredible ear for talent. He discovered all four of these guys and recorded them before anybody else knew who the hell they were. Then, of course, the music business being what it is, all four ended up leaving his label for bigger labels because he just did not have the resources to promote or pay these guys appropriately.

The musical was spectacular. The guys playing these icons are all musicians and they rock. Great singing, playing, a great story being told - we had a fabulous night.

Last Saturday I went to see Walter Trout at the Flying Monkey. Walter is a blues dude who wails on guitar; the kind that leaves you with your mouth hanging wide open. I have wanted to see him forever; every time he came around I either didn't have the money or had no one to go with. This was my moment.

He was insanely good. His band was insanely good. I was sitting in my seat in perfect peace - and awe - in full knowledge that this is who I am. Strip all the bullshit away, the poison and disappointments - and I am a blues fan. A music fan. A person transported by music out of my own skin and out of my own head into the truly spiritual essence that only I know. You would never recognize me in that space.

I have always wanted to check out the Flying Monkey - turned out to be a very funky little joint with a great vibe. Great venue with cool character, great people working there, great audience. I loved the place.

I went with Gregg - a new, old friend. I have been with him many times - he's a friend of Jason and Karen's. This however was the first time we did something together. Gregg is a mad music lover like myself. We have been flirting with attending concerts together but never quite pulled it off. It was a very great night.

Walter Trout, new venue, new (old) friend. I killed three birds with one stone.

Saturday night was spectacular.

This coming Thursday, Carol and I are heading back to the Capitol Center to see Kris Kristofferson.

Let me say that a little louder.

KRIS KRISTOFFERSON.

Kris is a fucking legend. There are many musicians and singer/songwriters that I worship. People who make my life worth living; people who inspire me; people who astonish me. But Kris is in the top five, hands down.

He captures emotions in his lyrics in a way that knock you down. But his lyrics are accessible; somehow he finds a way to pack maximum emotion in minimal words. His songs about life, about everyday people living, loving, suffering and crying - are dead on. Absolutely perfect.

This will be the third time we see Kris. Saw him at the Hampton Beach Casino many years ago, saw him at the Colonial in Keene a few years ago and now - Thursday night. I cannot tell you, cannot put into words how excited we are to see him once again.

Casino story - I have told this story 10,000 times. Gonna make it 10,001.

Kris takes a break after the first set, walks through those big doors that lead down the steps to the parking lot and disappears. I gotta take a leak but I wait strategically because the bathroom situation at the Casino absolutely fucking sucks. Finally get up and start walking. Towards those big doors before hanging a right towards the head.

Just before I head right, those big doors swing open and Kris walks in with a young chick on his arm. Walks right towards me. I literally could have reached out and touched him. I wanted so badly to say something to him - to tell him what he means to me.

I said nothing. Rendered speechless in the presence of enormous talent.

Still, it was pretty fucking cool.

Thursday night will be spectacular.

Thursday, April 11, 2019. Saturday, April 13, 2019. Thursday, April 18, 2019. Three days that will live in infamy in the life of Joe and Carol. Probably add a few years onto our lives.

An epoch eight day run.

Just when you are ready to give up on life..........................

Ignorance

"The animals know what's coming before we do; they heed the instinct to flee. But we humans, even when we know what's coming, we do nothing. We watch the animals disappear."

Alexis M. Smith, Marrow Island

The Prophet Continues To Speak The Truth

It snowed yesterday.

There is snow and ice on my deck.

It is currently 32 degrees.

Today is April 10.

Spring my fucking ass.

True

"Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve."

Eric Fromm

Just Ain't That Easy

I watched the Red Sox ring ceremony yesterday.

In fact we both did. The first home game of the season is a national holiday for Carol and especially so when they are celebrating a championship. She worked half a day and we settled in.

It got to me pretty good. It always does. PATS, Sox, Bruins, C's - doesn't matter - the celebrations blow me away.

I return to this theme time after time. Can't help myself.

I sat there and watched men who have been playing this game for their entire lives, standing side by side with big, sappy smiles on their faces. Checking out their rings, comparing them to the guy next to them, trying them on - they looked like little kids.

Men who have worked their asses off to make it to this level and been rewarded with the ultimate prize - a World Championship. Something that most athletes do not get to experience.

That is a feeling all of us want to experience and will never have. Most of us spend our entire lives working our asses off so we can afford to go out for pizza every other month. There is little or no reward for hard work in a small life, an average life.

That is why we crave success and recognition.

I do not begrudge these guys their happiness. I do not begrudge them their money. They earned it. They fucking earned it. I am happy for them. Tears well up in my eyes as I watch them celebrate.

Yesterday's celebration offered up both sides of the coin regarding that thing we call life.

Shortly before the celebration NESN showed a shot of the press box at Fenway. Specifically the seat Nick Cafardo used to sit in. There was a picture of him on the desk with roses sitting in front of it.

That really got to me.

Nick Cafardo was 62 years old when he died of an embolism at JetBlue Park, the Red Sox spring training home, on his day off on February 21. He was there because he loves the game.

Sixty fucking two.

He was a sports writer for the Boston Globe since 1989. He loved sports, especially loved baseball and supremely loved the Sox.

The guy was living his own dream when suddenly he gets cut down out of nowhere at an extremely unacceptable age.

On one side of the coin you have these young guys celebrating the greatest achievement of their lives in pure joy.  On the flip side of that coin you have a man whose life was ripped away from him, ending the career that he loved and no doubt destroying his family.

I could not get that dichotomy out of my head. Still can't.

The message to me (not that it will take) is this weird concept we call happiness. I think the most important choice a human can make is to find ways to be happy.

You ain't never going to be the world champion of anything. So you gotta figure out how to get happy, most likely in small doses, since life is diametrically opposed to a consistent state of happiness.

Knowing that you can get cut down by an embolism at the age of sixty two should inspire urgency in that quest.

Strangely enough, it just ain't that easy.

We Are All Needy and Greedy

"I don't need three cars and a great big fucking house (for two people). But............I want it. This is the issue."

Geoffrey West

Is This You?

"I set almost every song in a different time and location, some of the characters seeking a moral bearing with a faulty compass."

Elvis Costello from "Unfaithful Music & Disappearing Ink"

Wisdom Is Not Universally Applicable

As you well know, in "Major League" Jake Taylor accidentally ends up in the wrong apartment, after sneakily following his ex-girlfriend home.

He thought it was hers but it turns out to be her fiance's apartment. Jake and the fiance don't get along. As you remember Jake is a marginal professional baseball player. And the fiance is a pretentious prick.

So the rich fiance draws Jake into conversation in an attempt to humiliate him. He asks "Well, Jake, what are you gonna do when your career's over? I mean you can't play baseball forever, can you?"

Jake says "Something will come up".

SOMETHING WILL COME UP! I always loved that line. So understated, so casual. That is exactly the attitude I need to have if I am going to survive much longer.

Never fucking happen.

Here's the way I work.

On the days that I work I come home feeling deep, deep, pain, shame, fear and anxiety. Even worse, on my days off I spend the entire day feeling deep, deep, pain, shame, fear and anxiety.

The obvious solution is to drink 25.3605424 ounces of Dr. Crown's Magic Elixir to comfort me. Any sane person would do this. This almost kills the pain. Comes pretty close. The shame, fear and anxiety are in a class by themselves and are relentless and invincible.

I sit in my recliner and furiously try to focus. Try to come up with conclusions. Lay out a plan. Kind of like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. Except he comes up with : "the sum of the square roots of any two sides of an isosceles triangle is equal to the square root of the remaining side."

I come up with nothing.

So I go to bed. I fall into a deep sleep from 11:13  to 11:19. A deep sleep consumed by one long running nightmare. Hideous dreams.

Our house undergoes foreclosure and we are forced to live in the Peacemobile. I make the case for living in my car because it is roomier but Carol says "Fuck the Hyundai, my Bug has more class."

The cats agree with Carol.

Our clothes are ragged and torn, we live on cat food and we smell like putrid flesh.

I wake up screaming at the top of my lungs until my vocal cords give out. Carol, downstairs, says "Finally. Thank God. I'm trying to watch the Red Sox here."

I start pacing around the bedroom. What the fuck are we gonna do? What the fuck are we gonna do? We are 65 years old. I have flirted with serious disease. Carol has been assaulted by serious disease. We are only going to get older and sicker.

We got no fucking money. No fucking retirement. We need money and lots of it. As John Lennon said "There are no solutions. Only problems."

Fucking part time jobs ain't gonna cut it, baby. Deus ex machina. That is what we need but it ain't never gonna happen. Only happens in plays and novels. Jesus fucking Christ.

Our future is bleak. I start to pound my head against the wall. How could you be so stupid? How did you not plan ahead? Blood pours off my forehead and drips down the wall. There is a massive red black stain on the rug from previous night's reflections.

You are too smart to have put yourself in this situation. Really? Obviously not. Apparently you have the intelligence of a fucking fruit fly.

Overwhelmed by whiskey and blood loss I sink to the floor and collapse in a coma.

The alarm goes off the following morning and Carol says "Get the fuck up and go to work." To my $11/hour part time customer service nightmare.

"Something will come up" indeed.

Feeling Kind of Thirsty

"When the well is dry, we will know the worth of water".

Poor Richard's Almanack

Depressing

"The earth has its boundaries, but human stupidity is infinite"

Gustave Flaubert

It's Good To Have An Opinion

He dismissed modern Hollywood film making as "cheap, salacious pornography in a crazy bastardization of a great art to compete for the patronage of deviates and masturbators."

Frank Capra as quoted by Elvis Costello in "Unfaithful Music and Disappearing Ink"

Truthful Lyrics, Painful Lyrics

"This never was one of the great romances
  But I thought you'd always have those young girl's eyes
  But now they look in tired and bitter glances
  At the ghost of the man who walks 'round in my disguise

  There's a stranger in the house; nobody's seen his face
  But everybody says he's taken my place
  There's a stranger in the house no one will ever see
  But everybody says he looks like me"

"Stranger In The House",  by Elvis Costello